


the old warmth is gone

by wartransmission



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, M/M, Medievalstuck, Unrequited Love, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wartransmission/pseuds/wartransmission
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You see a tired smile on his face, his fists clenched tight on his side as he looks right back at you. He looks weary, as if his youth were drained out of him after years of leading. You feel the sickening guilt settling heavily in your stomach when you see it, and you readily wait for the punishment, wait for death, because you know that you deserve it.</p><p>But he smiles, wider now, body quivering under the weight of his crown and cape as he says,</p><p>“Welcome back, brother.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	the old warmth is gone

_You hadn’t expected to be taken back after you ran away. If anything, you’d expected that Dirk would throw you into the dungeons, to punish you because you left him to hold the kingdom up, given him the responsibility that was supposed to be yours as the elder brother, the supposed ‘prince’. But you ran because you were scared, because you didn’t want that responsibility. He had to take the weight off your shoulders because there was no one else who would; he had to be the wiser one even in his youth._

_You took away the life that was supposed to be his. But you thought yourself right anyway, because you could never be the leader that your kingdom needed. Dirk was, and always will be._

_He says, “Raise your head.”_

_And you do. You see a tired smile on his face, his fists clenched tight on his side as he looks right back at you. He looks weary, as if his youth were drained out of him after years of leading. You feel the sickening guilt settling heavily in your stomach when you see it, and you readily wait for the punishment, wait for death, because you know that you deserve it._

_But he smiles, wider now, body quivering under the weight of his crown and cape as he says,_

_“Welcome back, brother.”_

 

 

\----

 

 

It starts after half of the month passes.

 

The sun has passed and the moon is out, all brilliant whites and grays with the stars when you look out from your balcony. You’re just about to sleep, not entirely exhausted but not wakeful either, your tunic stopping short of your hip when you stand up. A knock disturbs your silence and you look up, saying, “You may enter.”

 

It’s Dirk who opens the door and enters your room, his hair ruffled and tunic almost transparent on his pale skin. You feel sick just looking at his lanky frame, even though you know that he is in fair condition. He would do fairer if you did not leave, but you did.

 

The guilt consumes you with each day you see him.

 

“Were you in need of something?” You ask, watching from your balcony as he sits on the edge of your bed. You would have teased him, asked about “nightmares” had it been an earlier time, but you know it would not be welcome. Not anymore. He has not been your baby brother in a long time, nor have you been his elder brother. You are just a knight to him now, as much as it pains you.

 

“Will you sit with me?” He asks, turning amber eyes up to you. “Brother.”

 

You swallow back any words, nodding instead as you step forward, letting the curtains dim the room as you sit beside him on the bed. You were a tactile person in your youth, always brushing shoulders and holding Dirk’s hand when he was smaller. You feel unsure of touching him now, so you don’t. “Are you alright?” You ask, maintaining a good portion of space between you as you look at him.

 

“I miss you, Dave.”

 

You feel ill.

 

“I’ve missed you too, Dirk,” you admit guiltily, turning your red eyes away when he turns his gaze up to you. “Very much so. I’m sorry, for leaving you like I did. I was selfish, and I did not think of your well-being. I can understand if you don’t want to treat me as your brother again. I will not hold any ill will towards you.”

 

“I won’t be doing any of that,” Dirk says after a moment of silence, and you hold back a shaky sigh. “I miss you still. I miss my brother.”

 

“Dirk,” you trail off, looking up, before freezing once you notice how close he is, his hand covering your own on your thigh.

 

“I miss you,” he says again, squeezing his hand around yours. “I’ve missed you holding me, comforting me when I needed it. I missed you being _here_ , with me.”

 

You stifle a pathetic sound when he shifts closer, his hand moving up to squeeze at your arm. “I won’t leave you again,” you promise, voice soft, raising your own hand to cover his. “Never again, I swear.” You want to cry but you keep it in, muffling the sob from escaping your lips when Dirk finally reaches out to you, his body smaller than yours but fitting your embrace all the same, as though nothing has ever changed between you in the period that you’d left.

 

“I love you,” you say, holding him tightly, face hidden by the crook of his neck and shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

 

“I love you too,” he whispers, grip tight on the garment on your back. “I love you, Dave.”

 

(You couldn’t have known that everything would change in such a drastic way.)

 

 

\-----

 

 

_“How will I be of aid to the Prince?” You ask, keeping with the formality as you kneel in front of him in the throne room, his guards at attention on either side of him. It has been two days since your return, and you cannot permit yourself to become idle. Not when there is something you can do._

_“There is a position that has yet to be filled by any of my guards, if I remember correctly,” he says, something of an amused smile on his face as he looks down at you._

_“And that is?” You inquire, quirking an eyebrow._

_“A personal guard. Someone who will ‘protect’ me first and foremost,” he says._

_You hide a smile as you bow your head in agreement. “That is most agreeable, your highness. I will do my best.”_

_You can hear the smile on his face even without seeing him._

_“I know.”_

 

 

\------

 

 

 

Things change, slowly but surely. The coldness and discomfort in your interactions with Dirk eventually fade into the old warmth, his smiles becoming more frequent and his quiet chuckles becoming commonplace whenever you share a joke with him. You hadn’t hoped to have this again, hadn’t hoped that you would have Dirk back at all, but you do. He’s your brother still, notwithstanding the fact that he is the prince and you are his knight.

 

You’ve never stopped loving him, not once. Not even now that he’s older, more experienced, and certainly more skilled than you in various ways. You’re proud of him, as you’ve always been. He is strong even after you left, growing stronger still, yet not becoming blinded by it.

 

He is better than you will ever be.

 

You’ve just led your horse back into his stable when he catches you by surprise with a hand on your wrist, an occurrence not uncommon, and you turn to face him with words at the ready. But any sound you make is caught when he presses his lips onto yours, his eyes shut as he kisses you. Your eyes are wide when he tilts his head and presses closer, tongue brushing against your lip- and it’s what breaks you from your frozen state, making you push him away as he stumbles in surprise.

 

“Dirk!” You exclaim in a panic, jolting when you feel your horse nosing at your back. You breathe in slowly when it neighs at you, your hand coming up shaky when you pat at its muzzle. “Brother,” you croak out, hand falling away as you turn your gaze back to your brother, his expression tinged with hurt and you feel sick with guilt, not wanting to see that expression on his face at all, or ever. “Why did you kiss me?”

 

“I love you,” he says, solemn in his tone.

 

You try not to laugh hysterically. “That’s not what brothers do _,_ Dirk. You ought to know that.”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

His answer surprises you. It doesn’t contain an ounce of his logic at all.

 

You breathe in, trying to calm yourself down. You can reason this out, surely. “I don’t think you understand what I mean. You kiss your lovers, Dirk, not your siblings. It’s hardly appropriate to fit your tongue inside your brother’s mouth, after all,” you say, inwardly grateful that the stables are always left alone at this point in time by the other riders.

 

He stares at you like you’ve grown a second head. “I know that.”

 

You gape at him, before schooling your expression back into indifference. “Then why?”

 

“I just said that I love you,” he repeats.  He pauses, before continuing with an exasperated sigh, “I love you in a manner that exceeds that of a brother’s love.”

 

You can’t help from fumbling for words. “I- _what?_ ”

 

“How many times must I repeat myself?” He asks, still completely calm- unlike you.  “I love you.”

 

You’re trying your hardest not to panic, but it’s unavoidable. “I’m your _brother!_ I watched you grow ever since you were a child, I _took care_ of you. I was the one who brought you up, I changed your clothes for you when you couldn’t, you’re- I don’t understand why you’re _saying_ this. What in god’s name made you think that you were in love with me in such a way?”

 

“ _Listen to me,_ ” he growls, growing angry, and you freeze. “I trust you, Dave. I trust you and only you. I don’t,” he trails off, voice tapering into a murmur, and you start to remember that you _can’t say no_ to him, not like this. “I don’t want to do this with anyone else.”

 

“That’s a large hurdle to pass if you plan on getting married,” you say, trying to look at him, but your eyes end up behind him and beside him without your permission. “Which you do, since you’re clearly planning on having an heir.”

 

He says, “That won’t be for a long time.” You swallow dryly when he steps closer, only inches from you, reminding you just how much he’s grown in comparison to you. To his _elder brother._ “Would you rather I sleep around with the chambermaids, brother? With one of the lower knights?”

                                                                                                                           

 _Yes,_ a voice in your head hisses, and you sputter. “I- this is hardly appropriate _,_ ” you say. “I’m your brother, Dirk. Your brother by _blood._ What would the people think, if they find out about it?”

 

“They won’t,” Dirk promises, something dark in his tone. “They won’t find out.”

 

You say, “I can’t just _agree_ to this. This is immoral, against the law- it’s not _right._ You’re the prince, surely you know that.”

 

“When has it ever been wrong to love someone, Dave?” He asks, a hand reaching out to curl around your elbow, your weak point, a reminder of how he can hurt you- but he hasn’t. He never will, unlike you. “Please. You’re the only one who I want to do this with. The only one I can trust,” _despite the fact that you’ve betrayed me already,_ he doesn’t say. It makes you want to hold him, take him away to a place that no one will ever hurt him again, even though you know it’d be most likely that _you_ would hurt him.

 

 _You already have,_ the voice inside your head taunts.

 

“Why me?” You ask, letting him come close, a frown on your face as he looks up at you with half-lidded eyes.

 

“Because I know you won’t leave me. Not again,” he says, voice soft. It feels like a stab in the chest and your eyes widen, but you’re not given the time to say anything when he kisses you again, hands clenched around your elbows.

 

You can’t hurt him again. You can’t.

 

 

\----

 

_“You don’t truly need a personal knight,” you say as you spar with him, deflecting a sideswipe with your claymore before jumping back to leave more space between the two of you._

_“I know,” Dirk says, letting you charge forward until your swords clash, the silver gleaming brightly under the sunlight of the courtyard._

_“Then why?” You ask, jumping back at the same time as he does, your sword swinging to the side in momentum before being brought forward again as he starts circling the courtyard, starts circling around you._

_“Because you want to protect me, as futile an effort as that is,” he says as an answer, watching you get antsy, before you give in and charge forward. Swords clash once more but neither of you back off, your teeth gritting as he keeps pushing you back. “Because I want you as my knight.” He smiles, yet it feels unnatural._

_“Selfish of you to keep me to yourself,” you say, smirking even as you pull away and bounce on your feet, before stumbling when he’s suddenly behind you and holding a sword to your neck. He’s gotten faster, unsurprisingly._

_“It is,” he says, breath disturbing the hairs on your nape as he speaks. “Quite selfish of me.”_

_You concede defeat with a sigh, not taking the words to heart._

 

 

\----

 

 

You hope against hope that the kisses would be the last. That he would not ask for more, that he would not push, because he at least understands what you cannot do to him.

 

You don’t expect it, when it happens. You’ve just returned from battle, having defended the territory in the far east of your kingdom against the rogues of Derse. You’re scratched up, but it is nothing compared to what you had to endure daily as a runaway. You’ve also seen your fair share of corpses and various gruesome manners of death, which isn’t a surprise considering your occupation.

 

The sight that had greeted you when you’d already fended away the rogues with your men was barely anything new. It was a little boy crouched beside the corpse of who you assumed to be his brother, the body clean of wounds other than the one gaping hole in his chest. The boy had been wailing, begging for help, even though it was clear that his brother would never be brought back. It would be impossible to heal the wound, large as it was.

 

You’d been reminded of Dirk in his younger years, the Dirk that still cried at the sight of you wounded after you returned from your training. He looked so fragile then, small, and you had promised, “ _I will never leave you._ ” He looked up at you with hopeful eyes, just like any child would, asking if you would keep your promise.

 

You said yes, but you broke your promise anyway.

 

You had been frozen in the spot for more than a minute, and you had to be snapped out of it by one of your men with a shake of your shoulder. You said, “ _I’m fine, a bit tired,_ ” to their questions, before heading to your horse with a little more than trepidation settling heavily and making a home in your chest.

 

What had Dirk thought, when you left? Did he cry? Did he not care?

 

No, of course he cared. He had been quivering when he held you in your return, and Dirk could never fake something like that. He cared enough that forgave you for everything, even when you clearly did not deserve any of it.

 

He loves you. He may love you in a dissimilar way as compared to your love for him, but he loves you nonetheless. That’s all that matters.

 

He accosts you in your own chamber as soon as you’re done seeing the healer, his lips on yours a predictable enough action that you do not stumble- instead, you wrap your arms around his waist, keeping him close, kissing him back with all the fear and love bundled and pent up in your chest. He gasps in surprise, not having expected the reciprocation, turning amber eyes wide up at you when you pull away. “I love you,” you say, red eyes drinking in the sight of him as he clutches at your tunic. “I love you.”

 

You only notice the tears in your eyes when he reaches up and wipes them away, the concern written all over his face as he leads you to your bed. He whispers soothing words to you and you cling to them greedily, wanting nothing more than to have your brother safe, happy, _with you._

 

He kisses you again and you kiss back, your hands raking dull nails along his scalp, earning a moan from him in appreciation. He presses closer at that, his legs circling your waist as he keeps his hands on your cheeks, his calloused fingers tracing circles on your skin.

 

It’s when his hands slide lower, grazing your nether regions, that you stiffen and pull away. He has never gone that far before. “Dirk?” You ask, eyeing him with confusion when he regards you dazedly.

 

“I want more,” he murmurs, hand sliding up under your shirt to stroke soothing touches on the patch of skin above your slowly rousing cock. “Dave.”

 

“The kisses are already more than I am allowed to give,” you say, gritting your teeth when he deliberately slides his hand lower once more. “ _Dirk_ , _”_ you hiss, “stop it this instant.”

 

“Why?” He asks, as though he doesn’t know. “Are you scared?”

 

“Scared!” You stare at him with disbelief. “This is not just _fear_ , Dirk, this is-”

 

“You’re not corrupting me, if that’s what you believe.”

 

You stutter to a halt in your words, surprise written all over your face as you stare at him. “How did you,” you trail off, your raised brows lowering into a furrow.

 

“I know you,” he says, amusement in his tone as he brings both of his hands up to lightly caress your cheeks. “And I know that you tend to feel guilty for things that are beyond your control. You like to blame yourself, thinking that everything is a burden that _you_ need to bear.” He breathes out slowly, hands moving to cup your cheeks as he makes sure to look into your eyes. “But I am old enough to make my own decisions, Dave. I know what I am doing, and I know what I want. I want you to be my first, because I trust you. You’ve told me time and time again, in our youth, that I should do what I think is right. That I should do what is good for me, that I should not let others sway me lest I become a ragdoll, willing to play anyone else’s game. But this isn’t a game, brother. This is me entrusting you with myself, because there can be no one else.”

 

You breathe in deeply. You struggle to find words, to find another argument- but Dirk isn’t done yet.

 

“You won’t hurt me,” he says after a while of silence, earning another one of your wide-eyed gazes. “I know you won’t.”

 

“How can you be so sure?” You ask.

 

“Because you don’t want to. And you can’t.” He looks at you, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You won’t let yourself hurt me again.”

 

The truth feels like a brick to the stomach. You try to say something, anything at all to defend yourself, but you can’t. Dirk smiles, slow and languid, pressing back into you with the certainty that he’ll get what he wants.

 

You can’t say no to him. Not with this guilt hooked to your heart and weighing you down.

 

 

\----

 

 

_He’s grown, even without you by his side for four years. It brings an ache in your chest because you’ve missed so much of your brother’s life, yet you’re proud because he managed to hold his own. He’s strong, even without you._

_But he wants you back, either way._

_There’s an assassination attempt during one of the kingdom’s balls, a tradition to celebrate the fruitful harvest, the bandits having infiltrated the ceremony after going through the few guards watching over the gates. Dirk could have saved all of them without breaking a sweat, further proving his strength as the kingdom’s prince and gaining his people’s trust- but he looks at you. He nods and you take that as your order, taking them out without killing them before having them be sent by your men to the dungeons. The people of the kingdom congratulate you in your success but you take it all humbly, because there is still a question you’ve yet to have Dirk answer._

_“Why?” You ask as soon as the two of you are alone, his eyes looking at the row of books in his study. You watch him from the doorway as he does so, still standing at attention even when he rolls his eyes at you. “You could have done quick work with them, and it would have benefited your reputation.”_

_“Perhaps I was too lazy,” he drawls, to which you roll your eyes. Impossible. He continues, “I do not intend for anyone to realize that this kingdom’s prince is with his own strength. It is better off to be underestimated than overestimated, don’t you think?”_

_You suppose that makes sense. ”That is true,” you agree. You hesitate for a moment, unsure if he has anything else to say, before turning around to leave. Yet he speaks again, making you falter in your step._

_“I also miss the times when my brother still felt the need to protect me, I suppose you could say,” he admits. You don’t look back to know what the expression on his face is, but you have a feeling that he looks as wistful as he sounds._

_You don’t say anything in response, even after a while of silence. You just leave, not once looking back, although you know in your mind what you would’ve said if you’d let yourself go with your urges._

(“I miss it too.”)

 

               

\----

 

 

You would rather ask for death, if you could. You would let yourself be maimed, killed by a guillotine, drowned in a well, rather than choose to do this.

 

You know all sides of Dirk, even with the four years you’ve missed of his growth. You know how he looks when he’s at his weakest, when he’s happy, when he’s sad, when he’s angry- _everything_. You’ve seen everything that a brother could ever see from his own sibling, and that was fine.

 

But you did not want, nor would you ever ask, to see this side of him. This side of Dirk that has him squirming beneath you, his face flushed with arousal, his hands scrambling for purchase on the sheets as you break him open. He moans, gasps, _writhes_ as he orders you to move more, to go faster, to claim him like a man would a woman.

 

If anything, you are grateful that he does not beg.

 

“I love you,” he gasps when you press in deeper, hitting something within him that makes his breathing stutter, his hands finding their grip on your shoulders. “Yes, move- ah! _, Dave,_ ” he groans, dull nails digging into your skin as you move faster, your own eyes clenched shut as you try to shut the sight of him out, try to pretend that this isn’t happening, that this is not your _brother_ that you are sleeping with.

 

You are silent when you come inside of him, your face hidden from his view as you hide in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Dirk cries out when he does, his body arched into yours, his whole frame quivering when he comes down from his peak. The sound of his voice, loud and ringing in your ear, feels like puncture wounds to your chest- yet you feel numb on the whole, like there is static in your fingers and toes even as Dirk continues to hold onto you.

 

It’s only when Dirk starts whispering to you that you notice how you’re sobbing onto his skin, your hold on him tight as you keep your face hidden. “I love you, I love you, I’m sorry that I left, I’m _sorry,_ ” you say, beg, trying to make him understand as he presses kisses on your temple.

 

None of this will ever be right. None of this will ever make you forgive yourself. None of this will make you feel safe in your skin, none of this will help you forget how much of a _traitor_ you are.

 

But you try anyway, because this is the only thing he asks of you. Even if it makes you feel sick with disgust at yourself, even if makes you feel like you are no more than a monster hiding in human skin- you try. For him.

 

This is the only way that you know you can repent for your sins against him.


End file.
